My Name Is Jo
by jozivabellepattersonfan
Summary: After an anonymous tip is called in, Jo ends up arrested for murder. What's going on - and what does her family have to do with it? Fourteenth in the "Homeless" series.
1. Chapter 1

The holding cell just wasn't comfortable.

The bench was metal. The walls were bare. There were no windows. The bars weren't really necessary; the atmosphere of the room was more imprisoning than anything else.

I could hardly believe that I had ended up here.

Worse, I still couldn't figure out _how_ I had ended up here.

 _Twelve hours earlier..._

"So tell me, Josie–"

"Her _name_ is _Jo_ ," my niece insisted, giving my brother a look that said this should be obvious.

He grinned at her. "Sorry, Sarah. Old habits die hard. So tell me, Jo, how's your job going?"

I shrugged. "It's a job." In any other context, I would have elaborated about my co-workers or the sense of satisfaction my work brought me, but I wasn't interested in talking about that with Emilio.

"Auntie Jo catches bad guys," Sarah piped up.

Ellie smiled and ruffled her hair. "That's right, Sarah."

"What about you?" I asked Emilio, taking a bite of spaghetti. "What are you up to these days?"

"Oh, not much. I have the odd job here and there."

"Why are your jobs odd?" Sarah asked.

"Because I'm not always doing the same thing," Emilio explained.

Sarah opened her mouth to ask another question, but Ellie jumped in before she could. "Thanks so much for having us over, Jo," she said, getting to her feet. "We'll have to have another family dinner soon."

"No problem." I pushed back my chair and stood, coming over to give her a hug. "Thanks for coming, Ellie. Drive safe back, all right?"

"Will do. Come on, Sarah!"

Sarah hopped out of her chair, hugged me around the waist, gave Emilio a high-five, and skipped out the door after her mother. I hoped that Emilio would follow them, but when I turned, he was still lounging at the table, sipping from his glass of wine.

"It's been too long, _hermana_."

I bit back a snarky reply. "Yes, it has."

"Mind if I hang out a bit, so we can catch up?"

I hesitated. "It is a little late..."

"Oh, come on, Josie, you know you want to."

If I hadn't been so tired, I would have protested further, because I certainly did _not_ want to spend any more time with my brother than absolutely necessary. But it had been a long day, and it did seem that Emilio was turning over a new leaf. I supposed there were worse things than spending an evening talking to my brother, even if I was this exhausted.

Emilio talked at me for hours, seeming not to notice that I was dozing off. Eventually, though, he did catch on. Shaking my shoulder gently to wake me, he said, "You obviously need some rest. I'll see you some other time, all right, Josie?"

"All right. Good night, Emilio."

I yawned all the way up the stairs and collapsed into bed. I vaguely remembered seeing the clock flash midnight before sleep overcame me.

Far too soon after that, my phone rang. Grumbling to myself, I sat up and grabbed it from my nightstand. "Martinez."

"Morning, Jo."

"It's not morning."

"You're right, it's four AM, and we've got a homicide. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks, Mike." I hit "end call" and tossed the phone back on the nightstand. We'd just come off of a hard case, and I was not ready, physically or mentally, for a new one. Sometimes I wished the city would catch onto my subconscious signals.

With the ease of long practice, I got dressed with my eyes mostly closed, downed a quick bowl of cereal, and opened the safe to take out my service weapon. I was out the door in fifteen minutes.

The address led me to an apartment building. Hanson was already there, talking to a uniformed officer. When he saw me, he broke off his conversation to join me at the tape line. "Patrol found the body at about three AM," he told me.

"Where?"

"In the alley, this way." He led me behind the apartment building into an alley, where the trash and recycling bins were overflowing. "Our victim is Simon Rodriguez, fifty-three. ID'd him from the driver's license in his wallet. His cash and cards are still there, so it wasn't a robbery."

"All right. Where's–"

"You don't need to look at his wallet to know this wasn't a robbery, Detective Hanson." Henry popped up from behind the dumpster. "Come take a look at this, Jo," he added. "Someone was very angry with this poor man."

I walked around the dumpster and had to agree. Simon Rodriguez was sprawled face-first on the pavement. He had a single bullet wound in his back, and I could tell from a glance that it was precise. "A straight shot through the heart," Henry said. "There aren't many people that could make that shot."

"Detective Martinez?"

I turned to see two men in suits and ties approaching the dumpster. "That's me," I said, holding up a hand.

"I'm Rogers," said the taller of the two. "This is Marshall. We're with Internal Affairs."

A chill ran down my spine. Hearing the words "Internal Affairs" made any cop shiver, whether they were clean or dirty. "How can I help you?"

"I'm afraid you need to come with us," Marshall replied.

I blinked at them. "Why?"

"We received an anonymous tip this morning, and that's all you need to know right now. This way, please, Detective Martinez." Rogers gestured for me to come with them. I looked from him to his partner to the stunned faces of Hanson and Henry.

"I'll call Reece," Hanson promised me.

"No need," Rogers said. "She already knows."

"I'll call her anyway," he persisted. "She'll get this sorted out."

* * *

Hello again, Forever fandom! After a brief hiatus into NCIS, I have returned with another story about Jo's family. Probably the hardest part about this one was deciding on a title. Let me know what you think so far!


	2. Chapter 2

I spent the ride over to the precinct trying to think of any reason an anonymous tip would have been called in about me. I'd obviously had nothing to do with the murder of Simon Rodriguez, although his name sounded familiar the longer I thought about it. Our last case had been draining, but nothing out of the ordinary for me. What on earth could this be about?

The walk through the precinct felt strange with two IA suits at my back. They hustled me into Interrogation as my co-workers stared. Lieutenant Reece emerged from her office to meet us at the door. "I assure you, Detective Martinez has my full confidence in this," she informed Rogers and Marshall haughtily.

"We're aware, Lieutenant." Rogers opened the door and pointed me inside. Marshall followed, and Rogers shut the door in my lieutenant's face.

"What is this about?" I asked.

"Take a seat, Detective." Marshall motioned towards the chair that I was normally facing. I sat. Once they were settled across from me, I asked again,

"What is this about?"

"Does the name Simon Rodriguez ring a bell for you?" Rogers asked, his face impassive.

"It sounds kind of familiar, but I don't know from where," I admitted.

Marshall leaned forward. "What about Julio Martinez?"

This was getting stranger by the minute. "That's my father," I said slowly. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Let me refresh your memory," Rogers said. "Fifteen years ago, you were the getaway driver for Julio Martinez in a jewelry heist. Julio stabbed Simon Rodriguez, the jewelry store owner, twice in the abdomen and escaped. You drove him home, then drove to a friend's house and called the police on your own father. Because you called it in, Simon Rodriguez survived."

I swallowed hard. "I was a teenager, and that file is sealed."

"We unsealed it after that same jewelry store owner was killed last night, and we got a call that suggested we take a look at your gun."

"My gun?"

"Please surrender your weapon, Detective Martinez." Marshall got to his feet and held out his hand. "If it turns out that your weapon doesn't match the bullet wound in Rodriguez's back, then we can put all of this behind us."

"I didn't kill Simon Rodriguez," I told them. "I had no reason to. But if giving you my weapon will convince you, then you can have it." I stood and took my weapon from its holster. "Here."

"Thank you, Detective." My gun in his gloved hand, Marshall turned to leave. Rogers left the room with him, ordering me to stay put while they ran some tests. I obeyed, putting my head in my hands and running my fingers through my hair. What was happening? Why would someone think I murdered the jewelry store owner that my father tried to kill fifteen years ago?

The door opened, and Lieutenant Reece came in. "This is a sham," she told me, sitting across the table from me. "Anyone who knows you knows that. Got any idea why someone would think you killed Simon Rodriguez?"

"None. I've been wracking my brains, but – that was so long ago."

"Can you tell me about it?" I flinched, and she caught it. "I understand it's hard to talk about. But I want to hear _your_ perspective, not what their file says."

"All right." I looked away, telling the story to the two-way mirror. "It was right after I got my license. My dad asked me to drive him somewhere. He said he could have asked Emilio, like he normally did, but he knew he could rely on me." I paused, remembering how good that had felt. "So I agreed. I drove him to this jewelry store. I knew he was probably doing something illegal, but he was my dad, you know? I didn't want to believe it. He asked me to wait by the curb, said he had some business to do and he would be right out. Well, five minutes later, he came sprinting out. He jumped into the car and told me to gun it. He was covered in blood that wasn't his."

When I didn't continue, Lieutenant Reece asked gently, "What did you do?"

"I dropped him off at home. Then I drove to my friend's house and called the police on him. They arrested him and got to the jewelry store in time to save the owner." I shrugged. "I guess it wasn't enough."

"What happened that day was not your fault, Jo." Lieutenant Reece put a hand over mine. "And neither was what happened today."

The door opened again, and Marshall came in, all business. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Lieutenant Reece. Detective Martinez, can you account for your whereabouts between eleven and one last night?"

"I was at home." Even as I said it, I knew how weak it sounded. "I went to bed around midnight. My brother was there up until I went to bed – he can tell you."

"How can we contact your brother?"

I gave him Emilio's number, and he went to call him. Lieutenant Reece and I stared at each other in shock. "Does this mean my gun didn't check out?" I whispered.

It hadn't even been thirty seconds before Marshall returned. "The number you gave us is disconnected, Detective."

"Disconnected?" I gaped at him, starting to truly panic now. "But I just talked to him yesterday–"

"Can anyone verify that?"

"My – my sister. We had a family dinner last night. She can at least tell you that Emilio was there after she left."

With Ellie's number in hand, Marshall left to make another call. Lieutenant Reece put an arm around my shaking shoulders. "Calm down, Jo. Breathe."

Marshall came back in. "Your sister verifies that Emilio was at your house last night. However, she claims that he told her he was going to leave by nine, because he had to meet someone else. She says she can't say one way or the other whether he was there between eleven and midnight."

"What are you saying?"

"You have no alibi, and your gun fired the shot. Only your fingerprints are on the gun or the bullets. Jo Martinez, you are under arrest for the murder of Simon Rodriguez." He took a pair of handcuffs from his belt and gestured for me to turn around. I did so in a daze. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

* * *

Thanks to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! What do you think of the backstory I created for Jo and her father? Let me know in the reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

Not only was the holding cell uncomfortable, it was also quiet. The silence had to be a form of torture. I wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen (not the IA suits) – someone that I could bounce ideas off of and figure this damn thing out. But there was no one.

The metal bench was killing me. I stood up and started to pace, trying to think through this logically.

I had not killed Simon Rodriguez. Therefore, someone else had. Were there security or traffic cameras in the area? Surely they would check those. With me under arrest for the murder, they would probably take Hanson and Henry off the case, citing a conflict of interest. Not that Hanson and Henry would accept that for a second.

The real question was, how had my gun not passed the test? When I got home from work, I always unholstered my weapon and put it in the safe, where it stayed until I left for work the next day. It had been in the safe before my family arrived for dinner.

My family.

Ellie and Sarah were obviously off the hook. But Emilio? While I knew that Emilio was not usually on the right side of the law, what possible reason could he have to implicate me in a murder? If my father was out of jail, there was a chance he would want revenge, but I was pretty sure he was still there. Plus, I was his _daughter_. Not even my father would try to frame his own daughter... I hoped.

The sound of footsteps brought me to the bars of my cell. I was relieved to see Hanson and Henry instead of Rogers and Marshall. "Hey, Jo," Mike said.

I tried to smile. "Hey, Mike."

Henry inclined his head to me. "Detective."

"Henry."

"Listen, they took us off the case," Hanson told me. "And they're not even trying to work it now that they've got you."

"I presumed as much."

"But we're on it. We'll get you out of this, Jo, I promise."

"Thanks, Hanson."

"Your brother," Henry said. "Do you know where to find him?"

I shook my head. "I've got no idea. He doesn't have a job, moves around a lot. Ellie might have better luck, but if his phone's disconnected, I don't even know where to start looking."

"All right." Hanson hesitated. "Do you have any theories?"

"I feel like Emilio has to be involved somehow, otherwise he wouldn't have gone off the grid." I sighed and looked away. "But the _why_ is the big question. I never even met Simon Rodriguez. I wasn't in the room when he testified against my father, and he wasn't in the room when I testified. But that was fifteen years ago, and the only person who would still have a grudge against Rodriguez would be my father, and he's still locked up."

Hanson cleared his throat. "Actually, he's not."

"What do you mean, he's not?"

"He got out last year. His parole officer says he's living in Brooklyn."

I let out a long breath. "All right. If you find my father, I think you'll find answers, too."

"Let's hope so. We'll head there now." Hanson put his fist up to the bars, and I tapped it. "We got your back, Jo."

"We will not let you down, darling," Henry said, reaching through the bars to caress my cheek. Hanson looked away, pretending not to see. "Keep your chin up."

"I'll try, Henry."

I had only been alone for a few minutes before another person came down the hall. This one was less welcome. "You know, if you confess, this will be a lot easier for you," Rogers said.

"I have nothing to confess," I told him. "I did not kill Simon Rodriguez."

"Okay, then, convince me."

"I admit that the gun implicates me," I began, putting my arms up against the bars. "The fact that I have a soft alibi doesn't help. But what motive would I have?"

"Mr. Rodriguez recently made a call to a federal tip line," Rogers informed me. "He gave his name and requested to speak to someone about an event that happened fifteen years ago."

"You know what happened fifteen years ago. You read my file. Everything in there is the truth."

"Is it, though?" Rogers came closer, so that his face was inches from mine. "I think everything in there is a lie. I think you were robbing the jewelry store that night. Mr. Rodriguez startled you, you stabbed him, your father drove you home, then you chickened out and drove to your friend's house and called the police on your father to cover up your crime. I think your father went away for fifteen years for a crime he didn't commit."

"That's a nice story." I forced myself to remain calm, although what I wanted to do was punch him. "You have nothing to back it up."

"Except a dead body. Now that Mr. Rodriguez is dead, there's no one to say any differently – except your deadbeat dad that no one would believe. Convenient, isn't it?"

I went back to sit on the bench. "Let me know when you've figured out that I'm innocent."

"Don't hold your breath." With that, he turned on his heel and left the way he came. I dropped my tough act when he was out of sight and leaned my head back against the wall.

What if I didn't get out of this?

"Don't think that way," I scolded myself out loud. Getting to my feet, I started to pace again.

* * *

What do you think? Who is framing Jo? Thanks to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing!


	4. Chapter 4

After about fifteen minutes, I came to the conclusion that my father and brother had to be involved somehow. Why, I still couldn't fathom, because I just couldn't see my father trying to get revenge on either me or Simon Rodriguez. Our testimonies had helped, but it was really the physical evidence that had put him away. He had been stupid that night. He could have taken a real getaway driver, or he could have made sure Rodriguez wasn't in the building before he tried to rob it, or he could have not tried to rob it at all. His prison sentence was his fault, not mine and not Rodriguez's.

Of course, he probably didn't see it that way.

But would he really try to take revenge on me?

If my father was involved, then my brother would be, too. That was a given. Emilio had never forgiven me for calling the police that night. Number one, he believed my father's story that the stabbing was an accident. Number two, he believed that I should have put family over everything else. We'd hardly spoken since the trial. Actually, I hadn't even seen him since he showed up drunk to Sean's funeral and Hanson threw him out.

When I thought about it, it was quite a coincidence that we'd ended up having a family dinner last night. Ellie had suggested it, but I'd gotten the impression that it was Emilio's idea.

I needed to talk to Hanson. "Hey," I called down the hallway, trying to get the attention of the guards. "Hey! I want to make a phone call!" Either they couldn't hear me or they were ignoring me. I slumped back onto the bench. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, I wanted to sleep, but my brain wouldn't shut off. It kept presenting me with the same idea: my father and my brother were framing me for murder, and it looked like they just might get away with it.

When my next visitor appeared in the hall, I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You!" I hissed, leaping from the bench and glaring at my brother. "What did you do, Emilio?"

He only laughed softly. "Oh, you did this to yourself, Josie. Don't put this one on me."

"You go tell the guards _right now_ that I did not do this!"

"You think I snuck past them so that I could clear your name?"

"Why are you doing this, Emilio? What are you and Papa doing?"

"Me and Papa?" He leaned against the wall and grinned at me. "Oh, this is _so_ much bigger than me and Papa, _hermana_. You have no idea. But I didn't come to tell you what was going on." He paused, clearly enjoying my frustration. "I just came to tell you what's going to happen."

He straightened and came closer to the bars to look me in the eyes. "You're going to go down for this, Josie. You're going to prison for the murder of Rodriguez. The sparkling reputation you've built for yourself will be all for nothing. And once you're in there, the person you wronged fifteen years ago will arrange for a knife in the ribs when you least expect it." He emphasized his words with a forceful poke to my diaphragm. "You're going to regret that you ever picked up your phone that night." With that, he turned and walked away. By the time the guards responded to my angry shouts, he was gone.

Thankfully, the guards called down Lieutenant Reece instead of the IA suits. She opened the door to my cell and sat next to me on the metal bench. "Talk to me," she said, as though this were a normal day at the office.

"My brother snuck past the guards," I replied. "He told me that what's going on is bigger than just him and my father. He said that I was going to go to prison for the murder of Rodriguez, and that once I did, the person I wronged fifteen years ago would arrange for a knife in the ribs when I least expect it."

"'The person you wronged fifteen years ago?'" Lieutenant Reece repeated.

"That's what he said. I have no idea what he means by it. I didn't wrong anyone except my father."

She put her hands on my shoulders. "I'll post more guards around this cell, Jo. No one will get past them again. You're safe here."

"Thanks, Lieu."

She looked behind her, making sure the current guards were out of earshot, before she told me quietly, "Hanson and Henry found your father. To use Hanson's words, 'Henry used Jedi minds tricks on him.'"

That made me smile for the first time in hours. "Of course he did. So what did they learn?"

"That your father might not be involved at all. It sounded like he might have made a mistake, said something to someone that he shouldn't have, and he regretted it immediately. Henry couldn't get him to say what it was, and with nothing definitive, Hanson couldn't bring him in." I sighed, but Lieutenant Reece wasn't finished. "On a hunch, Henry had Hanson look up your father's old acquaintances. Does the name Matteo Santana mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, he was my father's best friend."

"He also went away for drug trafficking around the same time your father went away for assault. He got out shortly after your father did. Hanson and Henry don't believe in coincidences, so they're looking for him now."

I shrugged. "I agree that's a coincidence, but I don't know why Matteo would want to frame me for murder. I didn't do anything to him."

"If he's involved, I believe Hanson and Henry will be the ones to figure it out." She gave me a pat on the shoulder and stood up. "In the meantime, don't get too bored down here, or Lucas might bring you a harmonica."

"Or he'll try to smuggle me a razor blade in a cupcake," I retorted. "That kid watches too many movies."

"He's probably baking as we speak." Lieutenant Reece locked the cell door behind her and waved before heading back down the hallway.

* * *

What do you think is going on? I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am! Also, I hope you enjoyed the Lucas references at the end of the chapter, because I just love writing Lucas (even if he's not actually present). :) Thanks to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! KenH - maybe you're a bit less baffled now, but part of me wants to write more stories about Jo getting framed by all of the possibilities you mentioned. :P

Also, totally wrote "Sean's wedding" instead of "Sean's funeral"... that's a bit of a difference. Fixed now!


	5. Chapter 5

An hour after Lieutenant Reece left, Rogers and Marshall showed up. "Get up," Rogers ordered, unlocking my cell. "We have to go."

"Go where?" I asked, getting to my feet and moving towards the cell door.

"Upstairs, where you won't be in danger."

I followed without protest, deciding that haste was more important than details. Rogers led the way while Marshall stayed behind me. Once we were in Lieutenant Reece's office and the door was closed, I asked, "What's going on?"

"Your team continued working the case, despite the fact that we threw them off of it." Marshall shrugged. "We knew they would. Anyway, they paid a visit to Matteo Santana and spooked him enough that he shot Lucas Wahl."

I had just settled into a chair, but that made me jump up again. "What?! Is Lucas all right?"

"Yes, Jo, he'll be fine," Lieutenant Reece assured me. "He was shot in the shoulder. Henry was there. He's in the hospital now, under police protection."

Slowly I sat down again. "What did Hanson and Henry say that spooked Matteo that badly?"

"Your medical examiner uses... unusual methods," Rogers began. I shared a grin with my lieutenant. "He bluffed him, saying that DNA evidence put him at the scene of Simon Rodriguez's murder. Santana believed him, and shot Mr. Wahl to get away."

"Did he say anything else?"

There was a knock on the door. Lieutenant Reece beckoned Hanson and Henry inside. "Shut the door behind you," she ordered as they came in.

"How's Lucas?" I asked.

"He will be fine," Henry replied. "The bullet went through-and-through, though it's inconveniently placed – he'll be out of work for awhile, but he'll recover."

"That's good. Now tell me exactly what happened when you visited Matteo."

"I will, but that's not the part you're going to be interested in," Hanson told me with a weary grin. "We found him at one of his old hangouts, a park uptown. At first he laughed at us when we asked about Simon Rodriguez. Clearly he'd heard of the man, but he claimed to have no knowledge about him or his murder. He was taunting us, saying that we had nothing or he'd be in cuffs, when Henry bluffed about the DNA evidence. He panicked and shot Lucas so he could escape."

"So what am I going to be interested in?"

"We just did some research on Matteo Santana," Henry put in. "Guess who was the key witness in his trial fifteen years ago?"

"Simon Rodriguez," I breathed.

"And he testified _after_ you saved his life that night," Hanson confirmed before I could ask. "So he has reason to want both you and Rodriguez dead."

"That explains everything," Rogers commented.

"Yes, it does." I stood and started to pace back and forth, thinking out loud. "It explains why Matteo Santana would be involved. It also explains why my brother would be involved – he always looked up to Matteo like a second father. He would definitely take his word over mine."

"So Santana recruits your brother to steal your weapon. He kills Rodriguez, then your brother returns the gun to your house before you've noticed it's missing." Marshall looked at me. "Does that sound about right?"

I nodded. Then another thought struck me. "The anonymous tip! Do we know where it came from?"

"It was made from Rodriguez's jewelry store with a burner phone," Rogers said.

I sat down again, disappointed. "Damn. I was hoping that could lead us to Matteo."

Rogers, Marshall, Lieutenant Reece and Hanson started to discuss ways to find Matteo. Henry was watching me. I could tell that he could tell what I was thinking. He started to shake his head, but I ignored him, inserting myself into the conversation. "There's an easy way to get Matteo to show himself."

They all turned to me. "What's that?" Lieutenant Reece asked.

"Let me walk out of here. Matteo will either show up along my route and try to take me out, or lie in wait at my house."

"Absolutely not," Henry snapped.

"It could draw him out," Lieutenant Reece said thoughtfully. "But it could also draw your brother out."

"I don't think my brother would actually do the deed himself," I countered.

"You're willing to risk yourself to draw him out?" Marshall asked.

"I'll wear a vest. And it's not like I'm helpless. I'll have my weapon."

"That's one of the reasons we initially suspected you," Rogers admitted. "You're such a good shot, you could have easily shot the bullet that killed Rodriguez."

"Exactly. I can protect myself if Matteo or my brother comes at me."

"That brings up another point, though," Hanson said. "If Santana shot Rodriguez, then he's a good shot, too. You'll need backup."

"He won't approach me if you're there."

"I will allow it," Lieutenant Reece cut in, "if you wear that vest, and let Hanson and Henry tail you."

I looked at my two partners. Hanson was eager to catch Matteo. Henry was torn between eagerness and anxiety for me. I understood, but I needed to do this.

Something in my eyes must have told him that there was no better way. He nodded.

* * *

Will she get him? Thanks to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! I don't know why, but none of the reviews are showing up. I'm getting e-mails about them, but they don't appear on the site. I sent a message, hopefully it will get resolved soon. So thanks to parkin24, KenH, and N3GatorFan for reviewing, even if the reviews don't appear to exist. :P


	6. Chapter 6

My vest carefully concealed under my shirt and jacket, my gun (returned by Rogers and Marshall) holstered at my hip, I left the precinct. Hanson had picked up my car from the crime scene, so it was in my usual spot in the parking lot. I got in after checking all around for anything out of the ordinary. I had decided as I was walking up that not doing so would look more strange than if I did. Anyone watching would surely expect me to be paranoid.

The drive home was stressful. I kept expecting to see Matteo out of the corner of my eye or hear the crack of a gunshot, but nothing happened. I parked on the side of the street and walked up the front door, fumbling for my keys in my pocket. I had them out, ready to unlock the door, when I noticed that it was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open, hoping that Hanson and Henry had noticed. Taking out my gun, I leveled it at shoulder height as I began to clear the rooms of my house one by one. The first floor was empty, so I progressed to the second floor, stopping for a split second in front of my open door to let Hanson and Henry see where I was going. Hopefully Hanson would take the hint and come in to back me up.

My bedroom was the first door on the right. I glanced into the guest room and the bathroom, just to be sure, but I had a feeling that if Matteo was anywhere, he was in my bedroom.

Sure enough, when I opened the door, there he was, lying on my bed, reading one of my books. "Hello, Josie," he said casually. "Could you turn on the light? It's a bit dim in here for reading."

I flipped on the light. It would help me see better, too. "What are you doing here, Matteo? Surely you can't expect to escape, even if you manage to kill me."

He sat up and dropped the book carelessly on the floor. "Do you know what you put me through? Without you, I would have been a free man for the past fifteen years."

"You could have tried not trafficking drugs," I offered, leaning back against the door frame, keeping my weapon ready in my hand.

He flapped a hand at me. "I would have gotten away with it if not for you. Funny thing is, I always assumed it was your father's fault. When I got out, I tracked Julio down. You know what he did? He gave _you_ up to save his own skin."

My heart sank at the betrayal, but all I said was, "I'm not surprised."

"And it was easy to turn Emilio to my cause, once he knew that he could preserve his father's life and ruin yours in one go."

"Sounds like my brother."

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation, Josie." Matteo got to his feet and moved closer to me, pulling a gun from his jeans. I straightened, pointing my weapon at him. "Jail is a terrible place to be for fifteen years. If I can't send you there, I'll send you straight to hell where you belong!"

He shot, and so did I. Then everything went black.

When I came to, Hanson was taking the gun from Matteo's limp hand. Matteo had fallen on the bed – a pool of blood was seeping through the comforter. Henry was leaning over me. "Jo, are you all right?"

I winced and tried to sit up. Henry put gentle hands on my shoulders and kept me lying prone. "He got me in the vest."

"I see that, darling."

"Is he dead?" I asked Hanson. He had his fingers to the veins in Matteo's neck. After a minute, he nodded to me.

"As a doornail."

"Good." I closed my eyes again. Henry was prodding at my chest where the bullet had hit.

"You would be dead too, if you hadn't been wearing a vest," Henry informed me. "As it is, you'll be in a lot of pain for awhile."

"How long is awhile?" I mumbled.

"That's for your doctors to tell you."

"You are my doctor."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "You're not dead, Detective, therefore I cannot be your doctor."

"That's not what I meant."

He squeezed my shoulder. "I know."

Rogers and Marshall cleared me of the shooting, of course. They also managed to track down Emilio using the phone they found on Matteo's body. I learned about his capture after the radiologist wheeled me back to my hospital room. "I'll come right back after I've examined the x-rays," he promised.

Henry helped me to my feet and into the bed. "What do you think?" I asked him.

"I suspect you have a few cracked ribs and at least one fractured one, along with some rather impressive bruises." He sat in the flimsy chair and pulled it closer to the bed. "More importantly, you should know that Rogers and Marshall picked up Emilio. He will be charged with aiding and abetting."

"I should be happy, but somehow, I'm not." I coughed and winced, holding a hand to my chest.

"I understand, darling." Henry took my hands in his. "It's normally a good thing when the criminals are caught, but when it's your own family..."

"It's complicated," I finished.

"Precisely."

The radiologist knocked on the door and came in. "You have a few cracked ribs and one that's fractured," he told me, holding up the x-rays for me to see. "Unfortunately, there's not much we can do for ribs – they'll heal on their own, given time. I'm prescribing you some medication to help with the pain and some cream for the bruises, and I want you on desk duty for at least the next three weeks."

"All right. Thank you." The radiologist left the room to write out the prescription, and I turned back to Henry. "Ugh, desk duty."

"It's better than re-injuring your ribs," Hanson said, coming in and taking the seat next to Henry. "I just came from Lucas's room. He thoroughly explained to me how his shooting relates to a certain scene in a graphic novel."

Our laughter nearly drowned out the soft tap on my door. I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.

It was my father.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Henry and Hanson looked from him to me and back, making the connection instantly. They got to their feet and blocked his view of me. "No," Hanson replied simply.

"I recommend you leave, Mr. Martinez," Henry added.

"I just wanted to apologize–"

"Save it, Papa," I said, leaning forward so I could see around my protectors. "Get out."

"Josie–"

"Her name is Jo, and you are not welcome here," Henry said. I'd never heard his voice this cold. "Leave, before we make you."

"I'm sorry, Josie," he whispered. Then he turned and walked away. Henry and Hanson made sure he was gone before looking back at me.

"Thanks, guys," I said, trying to smile.

"He doesn't deserve the title of 'father,'" Henry said fiercely.

"If he shows his face here again, he'll regret it," Hanson vowed.

The radiologist returned with my pain meds and the bruise cream, and Hanson and Henry left the room to give me privacy. I watched them go, thinking about the difference between my birth family and the family I chose. Certainly my birth family wasn't all rotten – Ellie, Sarah, and my brother-in-law Matt were evidence of that. But Henry, Hanson, Lucas, Abe, and Lieutenant Reece knew and cared about me far more than my father and brother ever had.

"Here you go, Josephine," the radiologist said, handing me a cup of water. "Wait, I'm sorry – what name was it that you preferred?"

I grinned at him. "Jo. My name is Jo."

* * *

In case you were wondering, this story started out as "Betrayal," then became "Daughter of Judas" before I settled on "My Name Is Jo." I'm still not sure which one is best. I thought "Betrayal" was too generic-sounding, although certainly accurate. I liked "Daughter of Judas" a lot, since Jo's father was the Judas figure who betrayed her and regretted it, but once I wrote the last line, I decided "My Name Is Jo" summed it up best. What do you think? Let me know in the reviews (so at least I'll know... since they're still not showing up...).

Thanks to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! This is another story that morphed a lot, and I have a super fun scene that I intended to use as the beginning that I'll probably post as a one-shot here soon. It involves Lucas and balloons, so get excited.

Update: Yay! The reviews have finally appeared!


End file.
